


Chocolate Martini

by roguelightning



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguelightning/pseuds/roguelightning
Summary: "Bring me something in a tall glass," she had said, and well. He was technically busy with summoning demons and stealing from her, but he figured a little break couldn't hurt.
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Chocolate Martini

He doesn’t get the chance to knock at her office door before it flings open and he freezes in the spot, the glass still in his hand. She’s sitting at her desk, an expectant look on her face as she stares at him, her lips a thin line. The red dress she’s wearing has a generous neckline, and he finds himself staring, despite the fact that he doesn’t have to memorize an amulet this time. Not that the last time he had stared only for the amulet.

“Is that for me?” she asks, pointing at the glass as she stands up, and his brain thankfully decides to start functioning again.

“Chocolate martini, with a twist,” he says with a grin. “Not telling what it is this time, though.” At this, she closes the distance between them, taking the glass from his hand. To his dismay, her lips form that thin line he knows it means she’s disappointed with him.

“I thought I was pretty clear, acolyte,” she spats at him, disdain in her voice. “I thought I specifically asked you to use a tall glass.” She’s so close to him now that he can feel her breath against his lips, can almost feel the magic inside her. It’s not an unpleasant ringing this time, though. More like a calling that’s making his blood boil. He can feel Tundra squirming inside him but he quiets him down as fast as he can. She doesn’t know he remembers and he has to keep it this way.

“I’m sorry, Grand Magus,” he stammers, what’s left of his brain begging him to put some distance between them before he does something stupid. “I’ll go find another-“ he doesn’t get to finish the sentence because she dips her finger into the glass, coating it with the liquid before passing it over his lips.

“It’s alright,” she says, her voice a seductive whisper. “I’ll find another tall thing to drink it from.” It’s the last thing she says before her mouth takes over his. His fingers dig into her sides as her lips move expertly against his, her tongue cleaning up the liquor on his lips.

“Chili,” she says when she stops to take a breath, her lips splitting in a grin and he finds himself wanting to see her smile like that every day for the rest of his life. Preferably because of him. _Mates?_ he hears Tundra ask, his tone half amused half angry, but he shuts him down. After all, he has more important things to worry about at the moment.

“I thought it would be a nice twist,” he smirks before he steals a kiss from her.

“Sickeningly sweet on the outside but with a bit of a dangerous part on the inside,” she remarks as she turns her back at him, setting the glass on her desk. “Not normally my type, but suspiciously close to what I’m into these days.”

“I thought it suited you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips and she turns to him at that, her eyes falling on his lips. Her lipstick is smeared all over them and she finds the idea of her marking him like that extremely appealing for some reason. She takes the glass in her hand and sips a bit of the martini, her eyes never leaving his as she does that. Her mouth makes a show out of it, her tongue swirling in the liquid before she licks her lips.

“You know, it’s the dangerous side that makes this so delicious,” she sighs contentedly, making it very hard for him to remember that this is the same woman who has wiped his memories, who would probably kill him if she knew he remembered… and who is currently kissing his neck in a way that is nothing short of unfair.

“We used to have this tradition,” she says as she helps him out of his coat, her mouth hot against his pulse point. “When we picked new acolytes, that is. It involved drinks and sex orgies and-“

“So I guess we weren’t properly inducted then,” he grins, but she waves a hand in dismissal at him.

“That tradition is outdated. Besides, I didn’t see the point of an orgy when there was only one of you I wanted.” That makes him grin like the idiot he is so she kisses him, just to wipe that satisfied look off his face. A necessity, really, just like removing his vest and shirt is. Come to think at it, he’s wearing way too many clothes. She makes a mental note of imposing them a dress code later on.

His skin is hot against her fingers and she runs her hands along his bare chest, pretending not to notice the way his breath hitches at that, just as she pretends not to notice his eyes flashing silver for a second or the way his claws tear her dress apart. She’s thankful he doesn’t fully turn actually – not that isn’t a thing she wants to explore later on, but acknowledging that would mean talking politics and she’s not in the mood for that. Not to mention it would mean wiping his memory off again and she really wants him to remember this.

They somehow end up on the floor, with him on top, his hands pinning her on the floor as he kisses her way down her body. It’s a vulnerable position and not one she’d like to be in, especially with a werewolf, but he knows what he’s doing so she allows it, a soft moan escaping her lips. It’s then when his phone beeps and he freezes on the spot for a second before he stops and checks his texts.

“I have to go,” he sighs, and she should be mad, but she really can’t, not with the way he looks at her. She wants to ask him who texted him, who needs him more than she does at the moment, but she has a feeling that the answer would involve Jack Morton and some stupid thing that is going to require a lot of cleaning afterwards. Cleaning that she is decidedly not going to do. So she stands up and throws his shirt at him.

“I’m really sorry, Vera,” he sighs as he catches it midair and puts it on, her name soft on his lips. “But something’s come up and-“

“I don’t recall asking you,” she cuts him off, waving her hand in dismissal. “And you will address me properly, acolyte.”

“Right,” he nods, not daring to look her in the eyes. He turns to leave, but she catches his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“This didn’t happen,” she says on a cold tone. “If you say a word about it to anyone, I have enough _pulvis memoriae_ to clean it up. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Grand Magus,” he sighs, really wishing he didn’t find this tone of hers as hot as he does. He turns to leave, but finds his hand still locked with hers.

“Whatever stupid thing you and your… gang are planning, call me when you finish,” she says as she moves her thumb across his lips, her magic wiping away every trace of her kisses. Her touch is almost burning and he leans into it almost automatically, but she takes her fingers away before he can kiss them.

“Assuming you’ll want anything to do with me when we finish,” he whispers, sounding incredibly guilty at that, but she decides it’s not the time to concern herself with this.

“We’ll talk about it over drinks,” she says on that tone of hers that doesn’t allow arguing, the doors flinging open as she turns her back at him. It’s only after he leaves she finds his vest on the floor. She considers texting him to get it back, but, as she sits at her desk, sipping from the drink he left her, she decides against it. If he wants it back, he’s going to have to work for it. Starting with cleaning up whatever mess he’s getting himself into.


End file.
